Loki of Asgard
by time2read
Summary: OneShotsCH 1 : Inspired by xXxStarrxXx who wrote We Were Wrong. (Read CH. 1 to better understand my story, if you want to of course) Basically the people of Asgard knew that Loki was a frost giant. They just never told him! It seems that they knew Loki better then even Thor did;P CH2: How soccer came to Asgard
1. Chapter 1

This was inspired by xXxStarrxXx , her story is in the Avengers section, My story is connected to Ch 1 of her story We Were Wrong. Well enjoy!

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None of the Asgardian nobility knew where the legend of Elir Alilas was first created and told. After all in a realm like Asgard where custom and tradition was ever present and never changing who would have the gall to write an epic of a frost giant with a heart of fire? And legends were written based off real happenings with intense exaggeration of course but still such an occurrence never took place! Or did it?

It is ironic that the people of Asgard knew a prince of Asgard better than even he himself did, in that we knew he was, Jotun. I Feya prime healer in Asgard and the royal palace was privy to both the world of Asgards elite and the middle class. This then is how the legend came to be.

King Odin had two sons. One who was well known among the warriors as a strong and valiant warrior but known to the people of Asgard as a hopeless fool and imbecil and the other who was known among the warriors as a coward and weakling but was considered the greatest mage in the realm by the people of Asgard and one that was most beloved for his kindness.

I as head of the healers was amazed when Prince Loki had first come to the apprenticeship of healers. He spent time teaching not only my apprentices but taught me a few helpful spells as well. This was surprising especially for a woman of my age who had mastered all the spells availably in Asgard. But his Arsenal surpassed even my own.

He would regularly slip out of the palace and visit the city itself. He would make sure that the families of those men who had died were properly taken care off and would teach spells to those who had an affinity for magic.

The discovery of his true self began on a day in the hottest of the summer months in Asgard.

Many would assume that like the nobility the capital city of Asgard would follow the ranking system. This is where they were wrong. Well off merchants would drink at the same tavern as fishermen and scholars would listen to stories told by gardeners. The markets would be full of laughter and happiness when the daughter of the ironsmith would marry the son of a bard. Everyone would help each other out. No one would be left without dinner in the nights and breakfast in the morn. Perhaps this is why the Prince slipped out of the palace and spent so much time here among the people of his realm. One where the halls were always silent save the clanking of weapons and the hushed gossip of the servants.

In the hottest month of the year however the outdoor bazar would be deserted and the children made it a tradition to play a midgardian game the prince introduced from his travel to the other realm. There would be two teams and a ball would be kicked from one end of the marked gates to the other. Now I must say the first prototype of the ball had black and white octagons and was well crafted but flimsy and looked like it would fall apart after a week of use. So the more skilled of the children, I am only adding this to show their love for the prince, crafted such balls but with gold and green patches which represented the princes favorite colors.

On that hot day I was sitting outside the healers' guild with two of my apprentices who were studying a complicated spell and watched the game played by children ranging from eight to twelve. The streets were dotted with Asgardians who were braving the heat because of errands that needed to be done.

The sun was high in the sky and shrieks of laughter resounded as the ball flew through one of the marked gates indicating a point victory. The prince was laughing and panting for breath with his hands on his legs. I was always amazed at his stamina and raw energy those kids took everything out of me when I would try to teach them basic anatomy during the lessons which were required of all Asgardians regardless the profession they chose. An echo of pain passed on his face and then he simply collapsed.

The children ran to get me, but I was already halfway there with my apprentices. I hadn't heard of any recent adventures so I immediately assumed it was one of his own solo ones. If anyone ever heard of his solo journeys it was usually the healers and I. We were loath to break our promises of secrecy so these ventures were often never heard off by the nobility or the elder prince Thor.

I brought him inside allowing only Orien and Mir two boys apprenticed to the guild to enter. The other children were loath to leave but no more ball was played that day. Upon further inspection the prince was burning up but I found no wound. I brought a cool cloth and left Orien in charge of placing the compress to his forehead.

A few minutes later I heard a shriek from the other room. A frightened Mir ran to get me claiming he had done a spell that was killing the prince! I ran over. Orien the more levelheaded of the two explained that the water became warm and Mir tried a cooling spell which froze the water on the compress. When applied to the prince however his skin turned blue.

Hesitantly I turned some of the water too ice and applied it to the prince. One of my apprentices gasped. "That's a frost giant!" I placed more ice to be sure. How was it possible? "Why?" Oren asked?

"Don't worry he won't harm you," I reassured him half scared at the discovery myself.

Oren frowned, "Obviously not! But why would he play in the sun when it would hurt him? Frost giants get sick in the sun!"

I just stared at Orien. Prince Loki himself must not have known! What amazed me most however was how easily they accepted someone who was from a race that supposedly killed and ate little children for lunch? Mir had shrugged "Loki taught us history was written by the victors."

Prince Loki woke up and sheepishly asked how long he was out for. I didn't tell him what he was. I just couldn't! That day when he left the city council was assembled and we vowed that this secret would be kept from the nobility for obvious reasons.

One of my apprentices who should have become a writer but became a healer because of the pay pennamed time2read wrote the legend of Elir Alilas, The frost giant with a heart. The inspiring story was picked up by a bard and he sang it to the court. I notice that day that when it was sung the Allfathers brow was furrowed and he was stroking his beard deep in thought while Queen Frigga wept toward the end. Thankfully Prince Loki was away with his brother and the warrior three so he never heard.

When Prince Loki died rumors floated around in the palace. Some of the nobility even speculated that the little weasel was a traitor and Odin said he died honorably to save whatever honor his youngest son possessed.

But in the city there was only one fear that the legend had come true. That he had done what Elis had done when he found out he was a monster. The revelation of what he was must have haunted his every step and like Elis fearing that one day he would be the monster that children feared he ended himself.

The funeral in the palace passed quickly. But when time came to speak none of the nobles spoke. So we the people of Asgard did. And for a month after if any of the arrogant elite would have entered the city they would have seen the gold and green tapestry that was hung from almost every house, and the ball tournaments that the children dutifully played in his honor after their lessons.

Prince Loki was not only the most selfless and most beautiful frost giant to have ever lived. He was also the only decent royal that I met in Asgard and I have lived a very long time.

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So what do you guys think? Oh if you guys have any requests I will make time for them but I don't do romance I feel like I make them too OC sorry;P


	2. Chapter 2

Just because the idea was stuck in my mind and I had to write it;P

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How Soccer Came to Asgard

Whenever life in the palace became too dull or felt suffocating because his oh so beloved brother wouldn't stop grating on his patience Loki would slip out of the palace. His favorite realm to travel to was Alfheim, their luscious gardens and wide variety of birds always fascinated him. Or Vanaheim, whose halls could even rival the beauty of the rainbow bridge.

Traveling there however was usually out of question since they possessed magic users and could potentially find him if they knew where to look. Negotiations were already growing thin with Alfheim, who were less than impressed with Asgardian behavior and Loki could not blame them. Arrogance was never something that one wanted in an ally. So that of course left Midgard which was less eye pleasing than the other realms but the easiest to remain inconspicuous in. And although Midgard's developments in the magics was lacking they made up for it with their variety of culture and of course food.

He had of course been to Midgard various times but today Loki was burdened with great purpose. He required a game which was playable but nonviolent, one that targeted the pleasure of playing rather than simply a victory. This he would teach to the children in the capital city who had begged him to bring something new back from his travel to the other realm.

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Andrew Roberts was a simple late in his middle ages man who ran a shop in the small town of Greenmount, a small settlement close to the city Greenfield Massachusetts.

Roberts had lived a hard life. His son had passed on in the war in Afghanistan and his business was failing ever since the new plaza opened up two years ago only miles away from the town. He was already retired and his house was bought out so he was greatly saddened that although he could simply close down the shop he would be closing down a generations old family tradition of running it and of course after paying back his loans he would sadly have no money left to give his daughter for a good wedding and a down payment on a house she wanted to buy in Greenfield. He wasn't a particularly religious man but he did believe there was something. And he hoped this something or someone would answer his prayers and help him out though being more of a realist in the sense he doubted such a thing would ever happen.

It was one of those Sundays when the sky was grey and the weather was sketchy always threatening to rain but never resorting to even drizzle. The children were kicking around a ball in Mr. Jason's backyard which was two houses down from his own shop; their laughter was heard even over the high wall that had been built years ago when Mr. Jason's still had a dog. His usual customer Joe who came in to buy a pack of beer had just left and he resumed to watching a football match while tallying up his weeks losses.

The door on his bell tinkled. This didn't faze him much since many times the kids came around to buy ice-cream or chocolate bars. A man walked in and what surprised him was he had never seen him before. Being a small town, everyone knew each other and knew everyone's relatively extensive family since they drove in once every blue moon. The man was wearing a black coat and a green scarf. And although he would fit in by city standards he looked altogether too refine to be entering his small shop. But a customer was a customer. I turned off my small TV.

The man began looking around like as if looking for something. Noticing a picture I put up to cover a decaying area of paint in the shop, a copy of "Last Judgment", he walked up to it and studied it for a moment. "You need something?" I sounded too gruff for my taste but his mildly curious façade reminded me think he was sightseeing and strange as it sounded at the time now when I look back at it I think he was.

He studied me for a moment. "Perhaps you may assist me?" His accent and manner of speaking sounded foreign to my ears perhaps he was British?

"I'd love to help what can I get ya?" Then I added as he contemplated my face rather rudely, "You're not from around here are you?"

"No, I'm not," He pursed his lips and tapped them with his index finger I stared at him rather at a loss of what to say. "I require a game, similar to the one I have just seen played. It includes a ball and I believe two nets."

I stared at the stranger. "Where are you from?" I suddenly asked thinking I was dealing with ET or possibly a nutjob.

"Far away," he replied, his eyes narrowed, "And I assure you I have all my wits about me.

"You have to be more specific than that there are tons of games with nets."

"The one where you use your feet to move the ball?" He offered.

"You mean soccer?" I asked rubbing my nose sighing.

"Yes, and if you teach me I will buy a ball from you."

He gave me a rakish grin as he twirled a soccer ball from the toy section on his finger. Perhaps I can also assist you with that, his eyes motioned to my numbers. How did he know and what was his angle?

I sighed looking at a photo I had of my son. How bad would it be to teach someone how to play a game? It's not like I would really have any customers today and he didn't look like a nut job…

I opened the back door leading to a small backyard of grass. For the next few hours I taught him how to play the game. Explained all the rules and even played a match with him. He obviously won being the younger of the two. He asked me questions about my life and I being human talked about myself and didn't think twice on him letting me do all the speaking. People do love talking about themselves after all. Strangely the time I spent with him reminded me off my son in a sad and nostalgic way. It began to drizzle so we went inside. Before I knew it was time to close shop. My visitor walked up to the counter to buy the ball as he promised though I had forgotten all about him doing so or him being a total stranger in the first place.

"How much do you need?" He asked.

I laughed it off waving a hand away. Keep it, it's a gift. He was pensive for a moment. "But if I could give you what you needed how much would it be?" I frowned. This was starting to give me a rather strange ominous feeling. I sighed doing the quick math twenty thousand for the loan and about forty more if I wanted to get my daughter all she needed with good furniture. "Around sixty thousand," I mused allowed.

"I see," he replied as if that solved everything. "What is the highest form of currency you carry?" That should have unnerved me more than it did but I brushed it off since I did spend most of the day telling him about my own life. I opened the cash register and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. His hand briefly touched its corner a thin glow flowed as if he was trying to see exactly what it looked like and for a moment I wondered if he was going to rob me.

His eyes unfocused and he seemed to be doing some sort of calculations. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out six stack of one hundred, one hundred dollar bills in each one. I stared at him in shock. I would have assumed he was some drug dealer or something except the stacks of money were too big to even be able to be kept in his pockets!

"I think this should cover my expenses." He said smoothly taking the ball in his hands and walking toward the door. "Wait!" I called as he reached to open the door what's, what's your name?" His eyes briefly flicked toward the painting. "Mikael," he smiled, "But I'm really not supposed to be here so if anyone asks you didn't see me."

He walked out into the rain which had half an hour ago escalated into a storm. I ran out to catch him and ask him if he had a place to stay, to tell him I didn't want his money. But he wasn't there. Not down any streets.

I asked around the next day but no one seemed to know anything about the stranger. I don't know whether his real name was Mikael or if he happened to use it because that was the name of the painter of the "Last Judgment". I was never a religious man but now I do believe in something, if heaven does have a g-d then he for sure had to be one of its angels.


End file.
